


Like That Could Ever Happen

by tarrysmith



Series: Happenings [2]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarrysmith/pseuds/tarrysmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sequel to my multi-chapter fic What Just Happened?  I never intended to write this one, but I can’t help it; it’s writing itself.  Once I stopped resisting and started writing it, I intended it as a one shot, but that’s not going to happen either…  I intended this to be light-hearted and fun, but it’s taken on a kind of dark and angsty feel, so, sorry about that.  As always, let me know what you think, and enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. WTF?!!

**Author's Note:**

> My original idea with this was to write multiple endings, but that just didn't work. I can't write angst; I don't like it, and I just couldn't do it. So, enjoy!

Like That Could Ever Happen

Part 1: WTF?!!

You go to the kitchen in your ratty old bathrobe to get a bowl ice cream. You just don’t seem to have any energy at all anymore. It has been 6 months since your husband of 31 years left you for the actress Sandra Bullock. That was a total fluke, and your head is still reeling. You suppose you deserve it, since you started it by having a mad, passionate 18-hour fling with the actor Tom Hiddleston. By some miracle, you had met him on the bus, had dinner with him, took him sightseeing, then spent all night and part of the next day fucking each other’s brains out. It had never seemed quite real, and you still thought of it as a magical, erotic dream. Your husband had seemed so totally supportive, and so, when by another miracle, he actually met his celebrity crush, Sandra, you of course, told him to go for it. But you never intended for her to want him permanently! And when she did, he tearfully confessed that ever since Tom, he just didn’t trust you anymore, and now that Sandra wanted him…

Yes, well. So here you are, alone with your memories of the love of your life, and ice cream. You go back into your living room to watch TV, some brainless program, and suddenly your phone goes off. A text message! Maybe it is him! You would take him back in a heartbeat! You snatch up your phone, and look to see this:

Tom Hiddleston: [hello there, (name). How are you?]

Oh hell, no. Really?

You never expected to ever hear from him again. But you answer. What have you got to lose?

You: [Not so good, Tom. (-) left me 6 months ago]

Now your phone rings. Tom is calling you. You shrug and answer it

You: “Hi, Tom. What’s up?”

Tom: “Is this because of me?” His voice is very quiet and concerned-sounding.

You: “Not really. He said he doesn’t trust me, but the truth is, he left me for Sandra Bullock.”

Tom: “You’re kidding.”

You: “No, I’m not. He’s with her now.” You are crying again.

Tom: “Sweetheart, the reason I’m calling is that I’m coming to (city), and I wondered if I could see you. Can you pick me up at the airport?”

You: “When is your flight?”

Tom: “Friday.” Today is Wednesday.

You: “Sure, Tom. Text me the flight information.”

Tom: “Yes, darling, I will. Don’t worry, it will be OK.”

You: “It will be nice to see you, Tom.” And you realize it really will be.

Tom’s flight is in the early morning on Friday, and you go to the airport to pick him up. You are depressed over your husband’s leaving, but you are still a huge fan girl, and you are excited to actually be seeing Tom again, because you thought you never would. That day and night you spent with him almost a year ago truly had been magical, and he is still one of the sexiest men you have ever seen.

He is one of the first people off the plane, and because he is so tall, you spot him right away, and the sight of him literally takes your breath away. He sees you right away, too, and he practically runs up to you, scooping you up in his arms and whirling you around. He puts you down and just looks at you. The expression on his face makes your stomach drop, and he cups one hand round the back of your head, and lowers his mouth to yours. You gasp, and feel his tongue in your mouth. He is kissing you passionately, and you are instantly aroused, but you push on his chest to break the kiss and look up at him in shock.

“Tom, what are you doing?” you hiss, stunned.

“Oh, (name), we have to talk,” he says, grabbing your hand. “Take me home.”

The two of you collect his luggage and go to your car. He is very clingy, holding your hand on the way. When you get in the car, he rides with his hand resting on your knee, but neither one of you says very much. You are still a little shocked, and are dying to know what he is going to say.

You get to your house, go to the living room and sit on the couch, but Tom just paces. He is very agitated, and you are a little worried about him. Finally, he comes to you, and kneeling on the floor in front of you, he takes both your hands in his, then he rests his head in your lap briefly, before raising it and looking deeply into your eyes.

“I’m truly sorry about (-),” he tells you, “but the fact of the matter is, that actually makes this a whole lot easier for me. I told you I would never forget you. And, I haven’t. I couldn’t. (Name), I am totally obsessed with you. You’re all l can think about. I haven’t been truly satisfied since I was with you. (Name), I think I’m in love with you…”

Whoa. You didn’t see that coming, and you need to talk some sense into him! “Tom, you can’t be in love with me,” you tell him, “you hardly know me. And I am way, way too old for you.”

Tom stands up and begins pacing again, running one hand through his hair. “I know, I know,” he says, “I’ve told myself all this, or I’d have been here months ago. But it’s been no use. I can’t forget you. You absolutely haunt me. The feel of your skin, the sounds you make, your eyes, your scent… I can’t eat or sleep… So, what am I going to do? I have to be with you. I was coming here to ask you to leave (-) and come live with me…”

“Well,” you say wryly, “I don’t have to leave (-). But Tom, would you listen to yourself? You’re (Tom’s age), I’m (your age). I have kids almost as old as you. Your fans would never allow it, Luke would never allow it, your family would never allow it…”

“Look at me,” Tom demands, so you really do, finally. And realize that he looks awful. Dark circles under his eyes, and he’s lost weight. You suck in a breath, reaching out to caress the scruff on his face.

“Oh Tom,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes and leans his face into your hand. “I know, right?” he murmurs.

“I’m still not sure about coming to live with you,” you say softly, trying to be reasonable. “How long are you here for?”

“A week,” he says. “I don’t have a hotel, I was hoping I could stay here with you…”

“Tell you what,” you say, feeling guilty that you feel happier than you have in 6 months, “let’s take this week, see how we do as a couple, then we can reassess.”

“That sounds like a fabulous plan,” Tom agrees, nodding.

You still know there is no way you can be with him. You really are literally old enough to be his mother, and you care enough about him to know you couldn’t do that to him. Truly, his fans would never allow it. But for this one week, without (-) in the picture, you give yourself permission to see what it might be like to be with him. You feel a little guilty, like you might be using him, but it will also give you the chance to convince him that he is not in love with you and that there is no way it could ever work.

He sits beside you on the couch, takes you in his arms, and begins kissing you passionately. You try to resist him for several moments, until the underlying desperation he is feeling hits you like a freight train. Tom is younger than you, but he is still a mature adult, not an angsty boy, who has probably had a lot more experience with relationships than you have, and perhaps the depths of his feelings for you are genuine. It certainly feels as if he is putting his soul into this kiss, and, powerless to resist the intensity, you begin to kiss him back.

Things escalate quickly between you. Fueled by almost a year of separation and Tom’s seemingly overwhelming longing, not to mention your own depression and the fact that you haven’t been with anyone since your husband left 6 months ago, these kisses are almost soul-destroying. Your hands are everywhere, tearing at each other’s clothes, running through each other’s hair, trying to relearn each other. With his mouth never leaving yours, Tom scoops you up and carries you to the guest bedroom. As he breaks the kiss to deposit you on the bed, you realize that somehow you are both naked, and that you are almost blind with arousal. Tom seems to be even further gone than you. He is incoherent, and the look of sheer desperation and lust on his face makes you gasp out loud. In some dim, far-back portion of your brain, you are full of disbelieving wonder that a man as beautiful as Tom can be reduced to this by you, but right now the only thing you can really think of is the fact that if he doesn’t fuck you, RIGHT NOW, you both may very well die.

You reach for him, and instantly he is on the bed with you, moving to kneel between your thighs.

“Fuck, Tom,” you grit out, “just fuck me now. NOW!”

He clenches his jaw and enters you roughly, already out of control. It is almost animalistic, and he is erratically thrusting into your heat, and your hands are on his ass gripping tight enough to leave bruises, encouraging him as you pull him to you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he is grunting with each thrust.

“Faster, Tom! Harder!” you wail. “Oh god, Tom, fuck me!”

And your thighs clamp around his slim hips, and you are coming and coming, and you black out a little, and Tom’s primal scream brings you to as he goes rigid and you feel his hot cum shooting inside you. He doesn’t stop thrusting, and you realize that even though he has definitely climaxed, he is still hard. Eventually he slows, but doesn’t stop altogether. Still thrusting slowly, languidly, he puts his forehead against yours, and then nuzzles his face against yours, and you delight at the feel of his scruff.

“You see,” he says.

And you do. There is no way you can deny this. There is definitely something there.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “I have to have you. I don’t have a choice.”

“Oh Tom,” you sigh. “What are we going to do?”

“In the long run? I don’t know,” he tells you. “But right now, I’m going to finish fucking my woman.”

You realize he has been moving in and out of you all along, and that he is hovering on the brink of his second orgasm, the slow, steadiness keeping him from the peak, and you understand that he is much more experienced and skilled at this than you are. A number of thoughts go through your head simultaneously: he is a master at this, he is toying with you, and somehow, you feel that, in this moment, he is a lot older than you are.

“What do you want? Right now?” he asks, his tone loving.

You close your eyes and sigh. “I think, if you just keep doing what you’re doing, and maybe use your hand a little, that I shall be more than happy with the outcome,” you say.

He smiles and reaches a hand between you, finding your clit with his thumb.

“Ah, there it is,” he says teasingly. “Give it to me, (name).”

And you do.

It is intense, surreal. As soon as Tom feels your inner walls begin to contract around him, he lets go, moaning with the intensity of his second orgasm.

He stays inside you, gradually softening and retreating. Afterwards, he pulls you to him in the way you remember. “I think I can sleep now,” he sighs, sounding so content, and you know you can’t take this away from him. Not yet. You burrow against him and you both fall into deep, restful sleep.


	2. Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Today’s my birthday, and here you have Part 2 of Like That Could Ever Happen. Your reading the story is your birthday gift to me! Thanks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two endings to this story I’ll start with the original ending I first envisioned, the REALISTIC ending, and then, there is the FANTASY ending! You can choose which you like the best. As always, let me know if you like it, and enjoy!

Like That Could Ever Happen

Part 2 Needs

You have a tremendous case of déjà vu when you slowly come awake later that afternoon. Tom is still sleeping, and he is gorgeous. He looks night-and-day better than he did before your intense fuck-fest. He said he hadn’t been sleeping. And with the way he looked, you believe it. But he is sleeping now, and you actually begin to wonder if what he says is real. Does he really need you to function? You are really afraid to go there.

You blink back tears at his sheer beauty, and know that if, crazy as it seems, you really are necessary to his happiness, then you will try to make this work. Because, causing a man as beautiful as Tom any kind of pain, would be akin to destroying something fragile, like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa or something.

You feel his cock stir in his sleep, and, just like you did that time a year ago, you gently hold him, delighting in his velvet skin over his growing hardness.

Eyes still closed, he murmurs, “I feel like we’ve done this before. Would you care for another go-round?”

“I was just thinking the same thing, about this feeling familiar,” you tell him, and cup his cheek, turn his face to yours, and give him a gentle open-mouthed kiss.

Your love-making this time involves more mouths and hands, and is sweet, unhurried, and infinitely satisfying. “I love you so much,” Tom breathes on a sigh when he cums.

You bite your lip. You’ve got to get him to stop saying that. He can’t love you; it is totally unsuitable. And while you are coming to realize that you care for him a great deal, you are still in love with your husband. A nasty little voice at the back of your head whispers that it is more than possible to be in love with two men at the same time. You ignore it.

As all this is going through your mind, Tom is watching you, a little wrinkle between his brows.

“You’re busy thinking about all the reasons we can’t be together,” he states knowingly. “I insist on focusing on all the reasons we can and should.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me,” you say skeptically.

He nods, kissing you softly. “I love you,“ he says. “I think I can make you love me. We have a right to our happiness, and what anyone else thinks really doesn’t matter. Age is relative; I am in love with a woman, not a number. And bottom line for me is, I need you. The way I need food, water, air. I’m convinced that if I can’t be with you, I will simply sicken, wither away, and die. You know it’s true; you saw it. It was happening. I knew that I needed to come be with you before it was too late for me…”

You know in that instant that he believes every word he’s saying. It may not be true, but he BELIEVES it, and he is not exaggerating or being melodramatic. For him, this is his reality. You are overwhelmed by the sheer responsibility you feel; as if you are directly responsible for whether he lives or dies. “Tom,” you gasp, “don’t…! “

He looks at you, then squeezes you fiercely. “I need you to understand,” he says seriously. “I have to convince you…”

You just kiss him and hold him close, smoothing your hands over his back and chest, reveling in his warm, smooth skin over the taut, firm muscles.

The two of you decide to get up and shower together, then go to make dinner. Tom requests pancakes, so that is what you make. All the while you talk to each other, just enjoying each other’s company and getting to know each other. You both still have a residual bit of sexual tension, but it isn’t near as strong, and you have lots of time.

After dinner, you retire to the living room where Tom asks what kinds of DVDs you have. You are embarrassed to admit that the only ones you own are ones that he is in. This amuses him greatly.

He picks The Hollow Crown, and you put in Richard II. Tom is quick to point out that he is not actually in this one.

“That’s only a technicality,” you say. “Besides, it was a boxed set!”

Later that night, you make love again. Since your husband was the one who left you, you take Tom to your own bedroom. Tom has never been there, since before there was no way you would fuck him in the bed you shared with your husband. He unpacks his suitcases, then draws you into his arms.

“I love you, darling,” he says, as he begins running his mouth all around your face and neck. “If you need me to spend this week convincing you of that, then so be it.”

He runs his hands under your tee-shirt, rubbing your back gently, then unclasps your bra. He removes both garments at the same time, then bends his head to suckle at your breasts. He lets out a contented sigh. “God, I’ve missed this,” he breathes against your chest.

You duplicate his movements, caressing him and taking off his tee-shirt, then unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans, you push them down his long legs. He’s lost so much weight, that they simply fall to his feet, and he steps out of them. You run your hands around his back, kneading and squeezing his ass through his boxers, then leaving your left hand there, you bring your right hand around to fondle his growing erection through the thin cloth, and he lets out a moan.

He drops to his knees, kissing down your chest to your belly, then undoes your jeans and helps you out of them. You have put on your prettiest lacy panties, and he takes a moment to admire them. He kisses all along the waist band, then slowly slips it down, dragging his mouth over what is uncovered. You give a little whimper as his mouth nears your sex. He presses a soft kiss to your mound, then cupping your ass, brings you to his mouth. Your breath catches when you feel his tongue part your folds, gently nudging your clit. Your legs buckle, and he catches you and gently lays you on the bed, your ass right at the edge. He kneels on the floor and puts your knees over his shoulders, continuing to lick at your entrance, every once in a while flicking his tongue over your sensitive clit. He is very good at this, and it isn’t long before you are coming against his mouth. “Fuck Tom, you are so good at that,” you moan, and you feel him smile against you.

You scootch up in the bed, and hold out your arms for him. He drops his boxers and joins you. You eye his erection. He is extraordinarily well–endowed, and you lick your lips greedily and take him in your hand. You stroke him sensually; you are very good at this, and he lays backs, eyes tight shut, and moans out his pleasure.

“I want to suck you and have you come in my mouth, but l also want you to fuck me,” you say. “If I get you off with my mouth, will you be able to get hard again right away? Because having you come in my mouth will make me crazy hot for you.”

“As much sexual tension as I had built up, it won’t be a problem, “ he assures you.

You give him a couple more lazy strokes, then take him in your mouth. You relax your throat to take as much of him as you can, and make up the difference with your fist around the base. With your other hand you fondle his balls, and he moans in encouragement. You are sucking hard, bobbing up and down and using your tongue as well. Tom fists your hair and begins fucking your mouth. This is intensely arousing to you, and you squirm, trying to get some friction between your legs.

“Fuck, (name), I’m goanna come down your throat,” Tom manages to get out. He throws his head back, neck straining, eyes clenched closed, and pulls your head to him as he shoots his hot juices down your throat. You take it all and lick him clean. “Wow,” he says. “Just, wow.”

You move up and pillow your face against his chest, and he hugs you tight. “Come kiss me,” he says, so you do, running your tongue along his lips, sure he can taste himself on you. He’s such a good kisser, and you moan low in the back of your throat, and he breaks the kiss for long enough to tell you, “I absolutely love that sound you make, my love. It sounds like sex.”

“Actually, there’s a meme out there that says Tom Hiddleston’s voice is sex,” you say. “Oh wait, that’s you!”

“And what do you say?” he teases.

“Tom, you have to know what you do to us women with that voice. You absolutely have to be aware of it,” you insist. ”There’s no way you can’t not know!”

Tom is kissing your neck and behind your ear, and you are ready for him again. You take his cock in your hand, and he twitches in anticipation.

“Talk to me Tom,” you beg. “I want to hear you talk dirty with that voice that is the embodiment of sex.”

Tom is basically fucking your hand, and now, he pauses, looking in your face. “Are you ready for me to fuck you?” he asks with that voice.

“Oh god, yes,” you sigh, and he moves between your legs. You reach for him to guide him to your entrance, and he slowly pushes into you. “You fill me so good,” you groan.

Tom presses to the hilt, then pauses to enjoy all the sensation, then slowly begins moving in and out. Gradually he picks up the pace and you are lifting your hips to meet his thrusts, willing him to go deeper and harder. He brings his hand between you and finds your clit with his thumb, and it doesn’t take long til you are coming again, keening his name. You have your arms wrapped around him, and you pull him tight to you. “Come with me, Tom!” you say.

The next moment he is clutching you to him, and he stiffens and spills into you, chanting your name like a prayer. He tucks you into his side, brushing your hair back from your forehead. He presses his lips against your brow.

“I love you, Tom,” you murmur. And go stiff at what you have said, clapping a hand over your mouth. You hadn’t meant to say it, it was the last thing you should have said. For two seconds you entertain the hope that he didn’t hear you, but no such luck. With a shout of triumph he brings your mouth to his. “I knew it!” he says gloatingly. “I knew you love me!”

“Damn, Tom…” you start.

“What, didn’t you mean it?” he is giving you the puppy eyes.

“I didn’t mean to SAY it,” you explain. “I’ve just realized it’s true. But I shouldn’t have said it. But it is true. I love you, Tom.”

“And l love you;” he says.

The week passes quickly, in a whirl of site–seeing, movies, window shopping, and just hanging out, getting to know each other. You spend quite a bit of time together in public, acting obviously as a couple, to see if anyone looks offended. No one does.

And you have sex. Lots of sex. And while you do still miss your husband, you admit to yourself that if you allow yourself to, you could be happy with Tom. You are shocked and surprised by the depths of your feelings for him. You love him.

And what’s more is, you believe him now. He loves you.


	3. And THIS Time, It Really Is All A Snow Globe (REALISTIC ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, ahahahaha! Here is the first ending to this fic. I admit, this is the ending I envisioned when I knew I was going to be compelled to write this one! With the exception of the little twist at the end, that is, which I swear I DID NOT WRITE! I’m not sure how it got here, honest, but i like it, ehehehehe!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title: yeah. If you google 'and it was all a snow globe', it comes up, really! Most of you are not old enough to get the reference on your own. Sorry to be cryptic about it… no I’m not, I love it! Look it up, or message me, I’d be glad to tell you!
> 
> As always, let me know if you like the story! i will be writing the FANTASY ending, this one is just the first one that came to me. Enjoy!

Like That Could Ever Happen

Part 3.1 And THIS Time, It Really Is All A Snow Globe

You sit bolt upright in bed, gasping, your heart pounding, disoriented. Where are you? What was that? You sit there, breathing heavily, and gradually it starts to come clear. You’ve been dreaming.

Your husband is quietly snoring beside you, but your distress has roused something in him, and although you can tell he is still mostly asleep, he reaches out and runs a hand down your leg and mumbles, “Are you OK, honey?”

You reach out to run your fingers through his hair and say, “I’ll be OK.”

Something in your tone strikes a nerve somewhere, and he comes more fully awake. Pulling you into his arms, he runs his hand over your hair and says, “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, (-), it was horrible!” you say, burying your face against his chest. You tell him all about the dream: him leaving you for Sandra Bullock, Tom showing up declaring his undying love, how your depression at being abandoned by him, your husband, caused you to jump overboard with Tom…

He tries really hard not to, because he can tell how upset you are, but in the end he just gives in and laughs. It starts as a chuckle, and pretty soon he is wiping tears off his face. You think about smacking him for a minute before you join him in laughing uproariously.

“I don’t know which is the funniest part,“ he gasps, between hiccups, “me leaving you for Sandra Bullock, or you going off with Tom!”

“What’s funny about me going off with Tom?” you ask, indignant. “It could happen! I showed him a really good time, and for all you know, he’s pining away for me to this day!”

“I’ll take my chances, honey,” he says confidently. ”I know you love me madly!”

He’s right, you do. And that’s why you were so devastated in the dream.

And yet…

“But in the end, in the dream, I was in love with Tom, too,” you say, a little uncertainly.

He squeezes you and kisses your temple. “Your Dream Self was in love with your version of Dream Tom,” he assures you. ”In real life, he probably leaves his dirty socks lying around, or something. I’m not worried, baby. You’re mine.”

This is one of the reasons you love him. He is so calm, so rational, so smart, so sensible. Devilishly handsome, his blue eyes loving, his silver hair no longer curly, but you still love it. As a matter of fact, Tom kinda looks like him, 20 years ago…

“You know,” you say, “I am still wildly attracted to Tom. He is funny, smart, talented, and oh my goodness, an amazingly good lay! I can’t guarantee that if he did ask me to leave you for him, that I wouldn’t! I’d certainly be tempted! But I think the lifestyle, the glamour, the scrutiny, the fan girls, and, of course, the age difference, would spoil it in the end!”

“I’m sorry, honey, I just can’t work up any worry about it,“ your love tells you. “Certainly your fan crush on him has done nothing but good things for our sex life!”

That’s sure true. All the photos you look at and stories you read often make you horny, but it’s your husband you turn to and have sex with, and it’s been incredible.

“And since I didn’t get to meet Sandra when she was here, I won’t be leaving you for her soon. So, you aren’t free to go with Tom. Nope, not at all. Mine!” he says, hugging you and kissing you soundly.

You kiss him back, and for the first time in a really long time, your kisses turn into middle of the night sex. It’s thrilling and satisfying, and you come together, and hold each other, and drift back to sleep. Just before you totally fall off, you send a little silent ether message to Tom, thanking him for the positive effect he’s had on your marriage.

In London, the actor Tom Hiddleston looks up from his scripts, sipping his morning cuppa, and his eyes happen to land on a framed photo on the wall, him in a ball cap and shades kissing the cheek of a rather lovely older woman. His eyes go soft, and for a moment, he allows himself to wonder how she is and what she’s doing. He stands up, walks over, and gazes at the picture for a moment, a sad and wistful little smile on his face. Touching his fingers to his lips, he presses them to the glass briefly, before going back to his scripts.

The End


	4. Hopefully (FANTASY ending Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gah, OK, so my writing tends to get away from me! This section is so long, and it’s still not done! This is the Set Up where everybody is happy for the Reader and Tom. I love that people are still reading this story! 
> 
> (I actually wrote a version of this where the families don't approve of the relationship. I suck at the angst stuff and I abandoned it, but I'll post it as Chapter 6 in case anyone out there is curious about it!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of this doesn’t make sense, just send me a message, and I’ll try to explain it better. But I’m like Tom, I talk too much, and there’s always so much word vomit, meh…
> 
> So, here it is! Let you know if you like it! Enjoy!

Like That Could Ever Happen

Part 3.2 Hopefully, Set Up 1

You decide to try to make it work. You had lost your job about 3 months ago due to the depression you were in, and the logical thing is for you to move to London to live with Tom, as his career is taking off rapidly, popularity skyrocketing. You want to get a job, but Tom says it won’t be necessary. You agree, mostly to humor him, determined to find something once you get acclimatized. Tom arranges to have 2 more weeks off so that you can get your affairs in order before moving in with Tom in London.

Tom needs to meet your children.

You invite them over, with their spouses and children, and order a bunch of pizzas. Your daughter Jan, along with her husband Al and their two children, arrange to fly over from their home 2 states away. Lindsay and her husband Mark and their 2 children already live near you, as well as do your son Ian, your sister Tracy and her husband Ray.

The big day arrives and everyone shows up to meet Tom. Well, everyone knows how charming Tom is, and he totally delights your entire family. Part of it is that he is simply that good, but a lot of it is that your family is so glad to see you happy after having been abandoned by (-).

Your daughters are particularly overjoyed to see you so happy. “Dad is such a jerk, mom,” Jan says harshly. “It’s so good to see you with someone who obviously adores you. Tom is amazing! And, oh, so drop-dead gorgeous! If you ever get tired of him, send him my way,” she says teasingly, with a wink.

Lindsay is not so comfortable with it, but she can tell you are happy, and she wants that for you. Her biggest issue is that she is your oldest, and is really only a few years younger than Tom. You know she wants to say something, but she loves you, so you know she decides not to.

Your VISAS and travel arrangements are made, your children agree to look after the house, and you and Tom fly to England. You try to act a little restrained, as Tom’s publicity people will need to be involved in how to introduce you. You are terrified, but Tom is giddy with excitement. He wants to just tell people about your relationship right away and damn the consequences, but you know you need to be the voice of reason.

You arrive in London and are met at the airport by Tom’s publicist, Luke. Stiffly, he shakes your hand, looking you up and down, trying not to frown, muttering under his breath. You can’t really understand what he’s saying, but you’re pretty sure you hear, “…what on earth Tom is thinking…. “ and your heart sinks.

Tom is standing very close to you, but on orders, is not touching you. You’ve already been told that once you clear security, there will be fans to deal with, and you really just want to sink through the floor.

Tom seems to sense your distress. “Honey,” he says, “look at me.” And so you do. And your breath catches at the look in his eyes. Yes, this is why you are here.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Don’t forget. Everything is going to be all right.”

“Thank you, Tom,” you murmur gratefully. “Everything is just so overwhelming.”

“I know, darling,“ he says, glancing around, and finding no one really paying attention, stoops to give you a gentle kiss. Luke makes an impatient sound, grabs Tom’s arm in one hand and yours in the other and starts pulling you both towards the security exit.

“Remember, when we get out there, no touching, no tender glances—as a matter of fact, (name), if you could just hang back a bit, like a secretary or something, that would be best. Yeah, stick with me. You can be my assistant,” Luke has this worked out.

You are unprepared for Tom’s reaction. He practically snarls at Luke. “Maybe for now, but you’d better have a plan in place to prepare for her to assume her proper role. That’s what I’m paying you for. I know this was sudden, but this is my life and my happiness, and she is what I want and need.”

“Yes, well, you have to understand how unexpected this is,” Luke says placatingly. “Although, with your capacity to love, I guess I should have realized something like this could happen. Come along then, let’s go out there and face the fans.”

Tom sends you an apologetic look, before allowing himself to be swept away.

And it is utter chaos. Hundreds, it almost seems as if it could be thousands, of screaming fans are packed along the aisles. Airport security people are everywhere, and the place has been roped off to keep people from getting too close. Only about one in 30 fans is male, and the average age seems about 20. You wonder yet again how you can compete and if you will really be able to do this.

After what seems like hours, you finally escape the airport and are bundled into a town car, which hurtles rapidly towards your destination, Tom’s home. A large part of you just wishes you could turn around, go back to the airport, get back on a plane headed the other direction, and go home.

But then, Tom takes you in his arms, tips your head back, and brings his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. You feel his tongue and open for him, and when you make that sound he loves, he groans and whispers in your ear, “I need you naked. I can’t wait til we’re home alone.”

He takes your hand and presses it to the growing bulge in his trousers, and you giggle and bite your lip, caressing him briefly. Luke, in the front seat, happens to glance back and makes a disgusted sound. ”Get a room,” he mutters, and Tom quips, ”I think that’s the intention!”

Tom’s home is beautiful. The driver and Luke help Tom unload your luggage. Luke eyes you both. “The introductory campaign will start this afternoon,” he says. “I’m issuing a little press release, not a lot of details, just her name and the fact that you are an item. I want you to send a tweet or two. Do you have twitter, (name)?” You nod mutely.

“Duh, I knew that,“ Luke mutters to himself. “It caused a bit of a stir when he began following you a year ago…”

He pauses, thinking. “This is good,” he says brightly. “Tom has been following you for a year! We can use this, yeah! You send out a tweet or two as well. We can make this work! I’m sorry I’m not better prepared, it’s just that I didn’t see this coming. Although in retrospect, I probably should have…”

Tom turns to you and pulls you in for another kiss, grinding his erection against you.

“Tweet!” Luke orders.

“Yes, sir!” Tom says. You both take out your phones and basically compose the same tweet:

@twhiddleston @twhfangirl59 #SolnLove #SorryLadies #OffTheMarket

And you both include a different photo of the two of you together.

Luke leaves with the driver, and you are alone will Tom for the first time since you left home. You go to him and lay your head on his chest, your arms around his neck, and he pulls you close and just holds you for a moment, before beginning to kiss you. “I want to christen every room in the house,” he says suggestively, and you get a good start on that.

That evening, Tom drives you to his mother’s for dinner. His Jaguar is magnificent, but you are so scared to meet his mum that you can’t really appreciate it. Tom knows how nervous you are, and frequently pats your knee and touches your hand, reassuring you with both touch and words. The sound of his voice is so soothing, and you try to calm down for his sake. “My family know how unhappy I‘ve been,” he says. “They will love you because they will be able to tell that you make me happy.”

“Gah, I really hope so,” you say, “But, Tom, try to see it from my eyes.”

“I know!” he replies. “But remember, I had to meet your children! You think that wasn’t scary?”

“My children just want me to be happy, after (-) dumped me!” you protest weakly.

“My family want me to be happy, too,” he says quietly. “They’ve had to watch me this last year, trying to tell myself to get over it, to get over you. Trying to forget you, trying to convince myself it could never work. Not sleeping, not eating, drinking too much…”

“Oh, Tom!” you sigh.

“You know that photo I sent you?” he asks.

“The selfie you took, of you kissing my cheek…” It’s still hanging on the wall in the living room of your house back home.

“Yes,” he confirms. “I have the same photo on the wall in my study. I look at it often. Whenever my family or friends were there, I used to have to excuse myself, just so I could go in there and look at you. It was the only way l could get through my day…”

You are speechless.

“In the last week before I called you,” he whispers, ”I had determined that it was useless to think I would ever get over you. I told my family, and it was them who convinced me to fight for you. For the first time in a year, I had hope. My family already love you.”

You try to say something, but there is a huge lump in your throat. Tom reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips. “We’re there,” he says.

You follow Tom to the house, approaching with trepidation. Tom knocks, then pushes the door open. “Mum?” he calls.

There is a scurry, and you are caught up in a massive hug. Both your cheeks are kissed, and then you are pushed away and held by the hands at arms’ length by a tiny whirlwind dynamo.

“I’m Diana, Tom’s mum, and l am so incredibly excited to meet you, (name)!” she says. “Thank you for coming with Tom! He’s spent this last year absolutely pining for you!”

“You’re being kinder than I deserve,” you murmur. “I tried to talk him out of it… ‘’

“Oh, dear, there’s no talking Tom out of something once he’s made up his mind!” she assures you. “He was determined to go to you and sweep you off your feet. I gather he didn’t have to take you away from your husband?”

You shake your head. “My husband left me 6 months ago for Sandra Bullock,” you say in a monotone.

“The actress?” she asks, surprised, and you nod. “Oh, I just love her, so cute…” she trails off. “Oh, how insensitive of me…”

“It’s OK!” you say, grinning. “I’m with Tom Hiddleston now.”

“Oh, indeed! Quite!” and she winks at you. “Come meet the others.”

You realize that as you stood there speaking with Diana, Tom has moved into the living room, and you follow Diana to where you can hear him talking. He immediately comes to your side, putting his arm around you, giving you a quick kiss on the mouth. He leads you to a small, slim blond girl.

“My sister, Emma,” he says proudly. Yes, you can see the resemblance. “Em, my fiancée, (name).”

Wait, what? You jerk your head around to look at Tom, and Emma takes your limp hand in hers.

“You’ve quite discombobulated her, Tom dear,” Emma says, chuckling. She pulls you into a hug. “I can see you are still a victim of Hurricane Tom.”

You give him a ‘we’ll talk about this later’ look. “What?” he says defensively. “Don’t you want to marry me?” Damn. The puppy eyes.

“Tom, we never discussed marriage!” you feel a little shocked.

“I want to make an honest woman of you, darling,” he says, giving you a rather passionate kiss.

“OK,” you gasp when he lets you up for air. Tom Hiddleston is a force of nature.


	5. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so this is my chosen ending for this tale! I feel like it’s lost a little steam, and I don’t know if anyone even cares anymore, but I wanted a nice ending, so here it is! I was going to write at least one alternate ending, but again, I’m not sure anyone would even read it, so…. I may come back and write it later, we’ll see. Right now, I have the next dubious adventure of the Unholy Three about a third of the way written, and it’s my favorite right now…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes about this one: because the last part gave a choice of whether you thought the families approved or not, I’ve chosen in this part to pretty much not even mention them, excerpt the OFC’s briefly towards the end. If you read this, thank you! If you LIKE it, double thank you, and cookies! Let me know, and enjoy!
> 
> And again, I'll post my attempt at the angsty set up as chapter 6, just for curiosity, but this is the end.

Tom, like most celebrities, has two kinds of fans: those who admire and genuinely care about him as a person, and those who really don’t. The press release Luke issues, and the few tweets you and Tom send out, have Tom’s fan base in an uproar, but you expected that and are prepared for it. Tom’s optimism is contagious, and you promise yourself that you are not going to worry about it. You feel guilty as you google celebrity couples with large age differences, but are gratified to find that some of these relationships are really stable. Of course, most of them involve older men/younger women, but you and Tom are unique, he loves you to distraction, and you resolve to make your own happiness. When you tell this to Tom, the look on his face makes everything worth it.

The first time you are spotted in public together, the press is not kind. But the loyal, caring faction of Tom’s fans look past your age difference, and truly see their hero. Anyone really looking can see how in love and happy Tom is with you, and what you think of as Tom’s “good” fans are absolutely delighted to see him happy this way. The “bad” fans, well, they aren’t going to be happy no matter what, and you find you truly don’t care. Tom has had enough experience with this to know that you are right, and as time passes, and he can see that your maturity helps you deal with things, he relaxes and stops worrying.

Because that is one of the biggest issues between you in the early stages: Tom is terrified that his less-than-kind portion of fans will drive you away, because it has happened before in his past, and he is so afraid of losing you. As he slowly comes to understand that it isn’t going to happen, and that you aren’t going anywhere, the two of you make plans for your marriage.

You don’t want a big wedding, and you live in dread of what Tom will expect. It is his first marriage, after all, and you don’t want to disappoint him. And, just as if to reiterate how wonderfully the two of you mesh, Tom asks to speak with you about it one evening.

“Darling,” he says, looking worried, “I hope you don’t mind, but the thought of a big wedding makes me absolutely cringe. We aren’t young lovers in our 20s, and neither of us are virginal…”

“Noooo,” you say, chuckling a little. “I’ve been dreading hearing you say you want me walking down an aisle in a white poofy dress!”

Now Tom chuckles. “I know you well enough to know that you’d hate that,” he says, pulling you into his arms and kissing your forehead.

“City Hall, eh?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“Oh god yes, please,” he sighs, relieved. “Thank you, (name), bless you for that!”

On the other hand, you are old-fashioned enough to want your honeymoon to be special. You suggest forgoing sex for the last month before your marriage, meaning it as mostly a joke, and you are surprised when Tom actually agrees to it.

“I’ve actually been thinking about doing something like that, babe,” he tells you. ”I waited almost a year before finding you again, and when we are together for the first time after becoming man and wife, I want a little bit of that magic to be there.”

So, on the day of your marriage, you appear separately at City Hall. You have been platonic, you’ve been living in Tom’s guestroom, and while you have seen him every day, you haven’t really even exchanged a proper kiss for over 35 days. The sexual tension between you is palpable.

Tom wants this day to be about the two of you, and none of either of your friends or family will attend. A couple of clerks in the office are recruited to stand as your witnesses, and when the justice of the peace says, “you may kiss the bride,” Tom takes your face in his hands, looks longingly into your eyes, whispers “I love you,” achingly, and brings his mouth to yours. You feel his tongue, and your stomach drops, and suddenly you can’t breathe, and you gasp out “I love you, too, Tom.”

It is done. You are now Tom’s wife. Mrs. Tom Hiddleston. You try it out for size, and decide that it fits you fine!

Tom takes you in his Jag to a little farm that has been in his family for generations. It is isolated and remote. When you get to the door, Tom scoops you up and carries you over the threshold, his mouth glued to yours. The months-long abstinence makes every sensation extra potent. Tom sets you down, still kissing you, wet mouths and tangling tongues. You are both panting. Tom drags his mouth down your neck, sucking hard, and you know he has left a mark that will show tomorrow. His hands tear at your clothing, and he is frantic, desperate. And so are you.

You paw at his trousers, gasping, “Tom, help me get these off!” But he is almost incoherent, making keening moans, frantically kissing you everywhere he can reach, his hands rubbing your breasts over your clothes. You are finally successful at getting his belt unbuckled and his trousers undone, and you push them down enough to free his throbbing erection. At this point, he doesn’t waste any more time trying to remove your clothing, he simply pushes you to the floor, hikes up your skirt, pushes your panties to one side, and enters you roughly in a single motion.

And it is enough to clear his head, and he kisses you deeply, not moving. He touches his forehead to yours, then looks around at where you are: on the floor, both still fully dressed, right down to your shoes, and he throws back his head and laughs his precious laugh, and you join in for a moment.

“God, (name), look at us!“ he says, shaking his head, still chuckling. “Don’t ever leave me! I’d obviously never survive it!”

“Well, you aren’t down here by yourself, mister!” you say, poking him in the chest. “Pretty sure I’m in the same boat!” 

You look deeply in his eyes, and forget to breathe. “Oh Tom, I love you so,” you whisper, and he kisses you. You contract your walls around his cock to remind him of what you were doing, and he begins moving in you. And suddenly, you are both frantic again, and you lift your hips to meet him, gasping. ”Tom, harder,” you urge, and he brings a hand between you, and when his thumb finds your clit, you scream his name as you come almost violently. Your spasms are enough to tip him over, and he thrusts into you hard, and you feel his cum fill you.

Afterwards, he cradles your head, smoothing your hair back from your forehead. “I’m glad we waited, because that was worth it,” he sighs contentedly, and you agree.

The rest of your honeymoon flies by, blissfully. On the last day, before you leave to return to London, you sit Tom down to discuss the thing that has been bothering you the most. The last time you tried to talk to him about this, he shut you down. “We will have this discussion later,” he said, and you want that later to be now.

“Tom,” you begin, looking at him earnestly, with all your love in your eyes, “you were born to be a father…”

“I know, love,” he says, his voice trailing off. He looks so sad and wistful, and you know you would do anything for that look on his face to go away. You have been thinking about this, and you think you know what a solution might be.

“Two things,” you say. His eyebrows go up; he is listening.

“We should adopt,” you say firmly, and suddenly, he is kissing you hard, tears in his eyes. 

”Oh, babe,” he says, “I’d hoped you’d say that, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to!”

“There’s no way I’d ever tell you that you couldn’t be a dad,” you say.

“There are so many orphans in the world,” Tom says, kissing you again, “let’s adopt 3 or 4.”

“I was thinking 2,” you say, and his face falls, but you continue. “Because, I was thinking we might want to try in-vitro…?”

He looks shocked. ”I thought you…?”

“I had hysterectomy,” you explain, “but they left my ovaries. My doctor says l should have some viable eggs. We’d need a surrogate, and Lindsay has already agreed…”

Tom sits there, looking shocked. You are afraid it’s too over the top. “Say something,” you beg.

The most beautiful smile lights up Tom’s whole body, and he hugs you so tight and kisses you passionately. And your departure for home is delayed by half an hour or so.

You adopt two beautiful children from Romania. They are a 4- and 2-year old brother-sister pair, Karl and Katja, both blue-eyed and blond haired. They look enough like Tom to be his natural-born children, and you both settle in to be parents. Tom is a wonderful dad, and you aren’t so bad yourself. After all, you have experience with this, and the children are well-adjusted and loving. They learn English quickly, and your days and nights are filled with love.

But you also prepare for the in-vitro. You shut up the London house, and go back home to be near Lindsay, and your doctor at home does the procedure. Tom’s schedule is hectic, but when he can be, he is there. The procedure is successful, and your beautiful daughter is carrying twins that are biologically yours and Tom’s.

“One more push,” the doctor urges, and your son is born. Tom is holding your daughter, just 20 minutes old, and Mark is there, talking Lindsay through it, the same way he did when their three children were born. The doctor hands the baby to you, and soon Jan is there with Karl and Katja, and you are introducing them to their baby brother and sister.

“Little Thomas,” you say, “who we’re going to call ‘Will.’”

“And little (name),” Tom says, “who we’re going to call (your middle name) [author’s note: ha ha!].”

You both hug Lindsay, thanking her and Mark for making this possible, and they both say, “Go be a family now.”

And Tom looks at you with so much love, that you feel you might burst with it. He kisses you, and puts his forehead against yours, and you know that whatever else life has in store for you, this is where you are meant to be, and you wouldn’t change it for all the world.

The End


	6. Valiant (Partial angsty fantasy ending. Abandoned)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, you will find this very similar to Part 3.2, Hopefully (Set Up 1), except, that one is the HOPEFUL one, and this one is the VALIANT one. In this one, pretty much no one is happy for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's special notes: what follows are my original notes for this story, simply for curiosity's sake. I did, in fact, abandon this idea. However, if you're reading this, and you'd like me to write some of this, let me know. So far, no one has! Rhanks for reading!
> 
> Original notes:  
> Now after this, I see it ending one of three ways. One of these is the happy ever after ending way — which is always my favorite. Two is a not-so-happy way, where I think Tom gets his heart broken, but you are fine (as you can be). Three is something that I quite frankly don’t want to write: what I call the “everybody dies” ending (no one will actually die, it just will be angst-filled.) I hate that shit, and I REALLY don’t want to write it. If one person wants me to. I’ll write it. But if no one wants it, I’m damned if I’m writing it! So, you have to let me know! AND, which do you want first: happy ever after, or broken-hearted Tom? (I’ll try to console him some way…)
> 
> You have to let me know…!
> 
> THANK YOU for reading my story. You all have no idea how much it means to me that people actually read this drivel! Let me know if you like it, and, as always, enjoy!

Like That Could Ever Happen

Part 3.3 Valiant

You decide to try to make it work. You had lost your job about 3 months ago due to the depression you were in, and the logical thing is for you to move to London to live with Tom, as his career is taking off rapidly, popularity skyrocketing. You want to get a job, but Tom says it won’t be necessary. You agree, mostly to humor him, determined to find something once you get acclimatized. Tom arranges to have 2 more weeks off so that you can get your affairs in order before moving in with him in London.

Tom needs to meet your children.

You invite them over, with their spouses and children, and order a bunch of pizzas. Your daughter Jan, along with her husband Al and their two children, arrange to fly over from their home 2 states away. Lindsay and her husband Mark and their 2 children already live near you, as well as do your son Ian, your sister Tracy and her husband Ray.

The big day arrives and everyone shows up to meet Tom. Well, everyone knows how charming Tom is, but your family is not buying it. They wants to see you happy after having been abandoned by (-), but they just don’t get how you can think you can be happy with a man young enough to be your son, let alone such a huge celebrity. Watching their father with Sandra Bullock has been really hard, and now you want them to accept Tom? It doesn’t go over very well.

“Dad is such a jerk, mom,” Jan says harshly, “and now you want to do it, too. You’re acting like a fool! But I will admit that Tom is amazing! And, oh, so drop-dead gorgeous! If you ever get tired of him, send him my way,” she says sarcastically. “I wonder how long before he’s cheating on you with someone more in his league.”

Lindsay is not so comfortable with it either, but she can tell you are happy, and she wants that for you. Her biggest issue is that she is your oldest, and is really only a few years younger than Tom. You know she wants to say something, but she loves you, so you know she decides not to.

Your VISAS and travel arrangements are made, your children agree to look after the house, and you and Tom fly to England. You try to act a little restrained, as Tom’s publicity people will need to be involved in how to introduce you. You are terrified, but Tom is giddy with excitement. He wants to just tell people about your relationship right away and damn the consequences, but you know you need to be the voice of reason.

You arrive in London and are met at the airport by Tom’s publicist, Luke. Stiffly, he shakes your hand, looking you up and down, trying not to frown, muttering under his breath. You can’t really understand what he’s saying, but you’re pretty sure you hear, “…what on earth Tom is thinking…“ and your heart sinks. “Tom, you’re out of your mind!” he says in a whisper that is loud enough for you to hear. “Your fans are gonna go ballistic. And your mom – don’t even get me started!”

Tom is standing very close to you, but on orders, is not touching you. You’ve already been told that once you clear security, there will be fans to deal with, and you really just want to sink through the floor.

Tom seems to sense your distress. “Honey,” he says, “look at me.” And so you do. And your breath catches at the look in his eyes. Yes, this is why you are here.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Don’t forget. Everything is going to be all right.”

“Thank you, Tom,” you murmur gratefully. “Everything is just so overwhelming.”

“I know, darling,“ he says, glancing around, and finding no one really paying attention, stoops to give you a gentle kiss. Luke makes an impatient sound, grabs Tom’s arm in one hand and yours in the other and starts pulling you both towards the security exit.

“Remember, when we get out there, no touching, no tender glances—as a matter of fact, (name), if you could just hang back a bit, like a secretary or something, that would be best. Yeah, stick with me. You can be my assistant,” Luke has this worked out.

You are unprepared for Tom’s reaction. He practically snarls at Luke. “Maybe for now, but you’d better have a plan in place to prepare for her to assume her proper role. That’s what I’m paying you for. I know this was sudden, but this is my life and my happiness, and she is what I want and need.”

“Yes, well, you have to understand how unexpected this is,” Luke says, deadpan. “I just don’t get it… Oh, come along then, let’s go out there and face the fans.”

Tom sends you an apologetic look, before allowing himself to be swept away.

And it is utter chaos. Hundreds, it almost seems as if it could be thousands, of screaming fans are packed along the aisles. Airport security people are everywhere, and the place has been roped off to keep people from getting too close. Only about one in 30 fans is male, and the average age seems about 20. You wonder yet again how you can compete and if you will really be able to do this. Fortunately, no one pays you any attention.

After what seems like hours, you finally escape the airport and are bundled into a town car, which hurtles rapidly towards your destination, Tom’s home. A large part of you just wishes you could turn around, go back to the airport, get back on a plane headed the other direction, and go home.

But then, Tom takes you in his arms, tips your head back, and brings his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. You feel his tongue and open for him, and when you make that sound he loves, he groans and whispers in your ear, “I need you naked. I can’t wait til we’re home alone.”

He takes your hand and presses it to the growing bulge in his trousers, and you giggle and bite your lip, caressing him briefly. Luke, in the front seat, happens to glance back and makes a disgusted sound. ”Come on you two. Eeww, really? Get a room,” he mutters, and Tom quips, ”I think that’s the intention!”

Tom’s home is beautiful. The driver and Luke help Tom unload your luggage. Luke eyes you both. “The introductory campaign will start this afternoon,” he says. “I’m issuing a little press release, not a lot of details, just her name and the fact that you are an item. I want you to send a tweet or two. Do you have twitter, (name)?” You nod mutely.

“Duh, I knew that,“ Luke mutters to himself. “It caused a bit of a stir when he began following you a year ago. This is going to be so much worse, but I’ll do what I can.”

He pauses, thinking. “This is good, I think” he says pensively. “Tom has been following you for a year. We can use this. You send out a tweet or two as well. I think we can make this work. I’m sorry I’m not better prepared, it’s just that I didn’t see this coming. Although in retrospect, I maybe should have…”

Tom turns to you and pulls you in for another kiss, grinding his erection against you.

“Tweet!” Luke orders, looking away. 

“Yes, sir!” Tom says. You both take out your phones and basically compose the same tweet:

@twhiddleston @twhfangirl59 #SolnLove #SorryLadies #OffTheMarket

And you both include a different photo of the two of you together.

Luke leaves with the driver, and you are alone with Tom for the first time since you left home. You go to him and lay your head on his chest, your arms around his neck, and he pulls you close and just holds you for a moment, before beginning to kiss you. “I want to christen every room in the house,” he says suggestively, and you get a good start on that.

That evening, Tom drives you to his mother’s for dinner. His Jaguar is magnificent, but you are so scared to meet his mum that you can’t really appreciate it. Tom knows how nervous you are, and frequently pats your knee and touches your hand, reassuring you with both touch and words. The sound of his voice is so soothing, and you try to calm down for his sake. “My family know how unhappy I‘ve been,” he says. “They will love you because they will be able to tell that you make me happy.”

“Gah, I really hope so,” you say, “But, Tom, try to see it from my eyes.”

“I know!” he replies. “But remember, I had to meet your children! You think that wasn’t scary?”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out!” you protest hotly.

“My family want me to be happy,” he says quietly. It sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself. “They’ve had to watch me this last year, trying to tell myself to get over it, to get over you. Trying to forget you, trying to convince myself it could never work. Not sleeping, not eating, drinking too much…”

“Oh, Tom!” you sigh.

“You know that photo I sent you?” he asks.

“The selfie you took, of you kissing my cheek…” It’s still hanging on the wall in the living room of your house back home.

“Yes,” he confirms. “I have the same photo on the wall in my study. I look at it often. Whenever my family or friends were there, I used to have to excuse myself, just so I could go in there and look at you. It was the only way l could get through my day…”

You are speechless.

“In the last week before I called you,” he whispers, ”I had determined that it was useless to think I would ever get over you. I told my family that I was going to fight for you. For the first time in a year, I had hope.”

You try to say something, but there is a huge lump in your throat. Tom reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips. “We’re there,” he says.

You follow Tom to the house, approaching with trepidation. Tom knocks, then pushes the door open. “Mum?” he calls.

No, who is standing there is a small, slim blond girl. He turns to you. “My sister, Emma,” he says, looking puzzled. Yes, you can see the resemblance. “Em, my fiancée, (name).”

Wait, what? You jerk your head around to look at Tom, and Emma takes your limp hand in hers.

“Hullo,” Emma says flatly. “So you’re her. He’s spent this last year absolutely pining for you.” You can feel her hostility.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I tried to talk him out of it… ‘’

“Well, there’s no talking Tom out of something once he’s made up his mind,” she says, eyeing you up and down. “He was determined to go to you and sweep you off your feet. I gather he didn’t have to take you away from your husband?”

You shake your head. “My husband left me 6 months ago for Sandra Bullock,” you say in a monotone.

“The actress?” she asks, surprised, and you nod. “Oh, I just love her, so cute…” she trails off.

“Yes, well,” you say, trying not to sound smug, “I’m with Tom Hiddleston now.” You smirk a little, sensing her discomfort.

“Yes.” She turns to Tom. “I‘m afraid Mum won’t see you. You might as well go.”

“So that’s how it’s going to go down, is it?” Tom says stiffly, and you can tell that he is angry. “Well, it’s totally her loss.” He puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you to him. “I love (name), and I am going to marry her, and you lot can either choose to accept it and be happy for me, or you can stay the hell out of my way!” And he turns to lead you back to the car.

Your head spins as you hurry to keep up with him. Marry him? That is news to you. You want to talk about that, but now is clearly not the time, as his mother is having a tantrum and his sister clearly hates you. Positive, optimistic Tom is clearly disappointed, and he has to be hurting, but if that is the case, he refuses to show it. You are overwhelmed with love for him.

You give him a ‘we’ll talk about this later’ look. “What?” he says defensively. “Don’t you want to marry me?” Damn. The puppy eyes.

“Tom, we never discussed marriage!” you feel a little shocked.

“I want to make an honest woman of you, darling,” he says, giving you a rather passionate kiss.

“OK,” you gasp when he lets you up for air. Tom Hiddleston is a force of nature.


End file.
